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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27078691">The Witches' Revenge: A Wincest Twister</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RxNovem/pseuds/RxNovem'>RxNovem</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, M/M, Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 01:41:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,410</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27078691</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RxNovem/pseuds/RxNovem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>While Sam is off investigating a haunted theater, Dean meets his dream girl: tall, slender and somehow all too familiar. Little does he know the trouble Sam has got himself into and the lengths he is willing to go to to lift the curse that has been placed upon him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Witches' Revenge: A Wincest Twister</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dean drained the last of his beer, slammed the bottle down on the bar counter, and checked his phone for messages. Still no word from Sam. The first gnawings of worry were starting to eat at Dean’s mind. Sam was a big boy and could take care of himself, he reminded himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An old Black Sabbath song blasted from the overhead speakers, and the dim light of the place scattered as it hit the bottles of whiskey behind the bar and ricocheted back to him from the mirror behind the barman. In it, Dean caught a glimpse of his own uneasy face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That afternoon, Sam and Dean Winchester had rolled into Ogunquit, Maine. The job was a simple one: A haunted theater. A touring, second-rate comedian had been shaken up by a bloody apparition in the dressing room, but no one was hurt. Low priority on Dean’s list. Sam, on the other hand, had been anxious to get at it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dammit, Sam,” said Dean, tossing his duffel bag onto the bed of the motel room. “I just drove for four hours straight. Can’t we just go to the bar across the road, grab some burgers, knock back a couple beers and relax for one night? We can take care of Macbeth’s ghost first thing in the morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can do whatever you want. I’m going to check out the theater.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had sensed Sam growing niggly over the past few days. Too much time together on the road. It was bound to happen. This was just Sam’s way of getting some space for himself, Dean told himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need to learn how to relax.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need to learn to grow up and cut back on your drinking. You’ve been knocking back a couple beers and ‘relaxing’ every night this week. You know you’re just trying to get away from the fact that we have a job to do, Dean. An ugly one that no one else will do. It’s thankless and it’s hard, but you know what? Someone has to do it and it might as well be us. So go hide away in that dive across the road for the night, but eventually you’re going to have to face reality!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you face the reality that you’re an uptight asshole who is going to die alone, just like Dad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam snatched the keys to the Impala off the coffee table before storming off. Dean clenched his fists as he listened to the rumble of the Impala’s engine firing up and exhaled long and hard as it disappeared into the distance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of a text message on his phone brought him back to the present. Sam. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ran into an old acquaintance and two of her friends. Don’t wait up. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Relief flooded him. “Son of a bitch,” muttered Dean and motioned to the barman for another beer. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I bet they’re all smoking hot too. And he’s going to keep them all to himself. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean sipped the fresh beer, letting his lips rest against the glass as images of Sam entangled in the limbs of three supple naked bodies pushed their way into his mind. He felt a stirring in his jeans and spread his legs just a little further apart as he sat on the barstool. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Now I </span>
  </em>
  <span>have</span>
  <em>
    <span> to get laid tonight,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought. He chuckled and shook his head to clear it. That was when he saw her. He was still grinning stupidly to himself and when he saw her reflected in the mirror behind the bar, his smile broadened and he spun around to catch her eye as she approached. She was tall, with a slender frame draped in a black cocktail dress. Her fashionably messy, dark brown hair was feathered around her face and there was something familiar about her soft eyes and cute, pointed little nose. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her gaze darted away from his, but she smiled demurely as she came to stand next to him at the bar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What can I get you?” he asked her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything strong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s my kind of woman.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She chewed nervously at her lip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s your name?” asked Dean.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sa- Sabrina,” she said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like the witch?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess so.” She seemed to prickle at this, and Dean cringed inwardly at his own awkwardness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you, Sabrina. I’m - uh- “ He choked for a moment trying to remember which name he was supposed to be going by that week. “Jim...uh... Morrison…. uh… Jimmy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you, Jim Morrison Jimmy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckled nervously as she shook his hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Barman!” called Dean a little too loudly. “Two tequilas!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam stabbed the key into the Impala’s ignition and twisted it roughly. He relished the roar of the engine, knowing that just the sound of him starting her up would piss Dean off worse than if he made out with one of his one night stands right in front of him. And he would know. Bouncing from town to town like their fake credit card payments, they had shared more than just the same motel room from time to time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was so sick of always being in each other’s business, of never having a moment’s respite.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he guided the Impala out of the motel parking lot, he punched the off button on the radio to cut off the clang of Van Halen’s electric guitar. Just one more thing Dean had ruined for him. Dean had played that song to death. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The haunted theater wasn’t far from the motel, but the route he took was long enough to let the rumble of the Impala’s engine soothe some of his irritation. He parked across the street, and took in the old building as he strolled towards it, concealing the sawn-off shotgun loaded with rock salt beneath his jacket. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>According to the vintage marquee over the entrance of the theater, the next show was a local production of Chicago in three days. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Risque for a small town like this,</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought Sam, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I guess the times are changing.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The front doors were locked, so he slipped down the alley sandwiched between the theater and a bakery next door. He quickly found the rear entrance, blocked off by a security gate. On closer inspection, he found both the gate and the door behind it unlocked and quietly ducked inside. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I guess security is more of a suggestion than anything else around here. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam found himself in a dark hallway. He shouldered the shotgun, and after flicking on the flashlight duct-taped to the barrel of the shotgun, he ascertained that he must be somewhere backstage. Dressing rooms lined the corridors, but the sound of movement up ahead caught his attention. He stealth-walked closer to the source of the sound, gripping the handle of the shotgun firmly and enjoying the familiar dump of adrenaline into his system as it sharpened his senses and quickened his heartbeat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The beam of his flashlight caught a shadow ascending a flight of metal stairs and he quickened his pace. At the top of the stairs, he found himself surrounded by dusty props and lighting equipment and realized that he was directly behind the stage curtain. On the other side of the curtain he thought he could sense a presence, even hear the whisper of someone breathing. In one fluid motion, he swept a portion of the curtain aside, revealing a dark and empty stage overlooking rows and rows of empty seats. No one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But suddenly the stage lights flared, blinding him for one crucial second. A figure shoved past him, sprinting back the way he came. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” shouted Sam. “Wait!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The figure ran down the stairs back the way he had come, not the weightless footfalls of a ghost, but the quick step of someone agile and light on their feet. Sam sprinted after the shadow that the stage lights had burned into his retina. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took the stairs two at a time, blinking madly to get his vision back. By the time he reached the bottom, he could see well enough to notice that one of the dressing room doors were open. He poked his head around the doorjamb, scanning the room for signs of life. Nothing that he could see, only rows of costumes hanging on rails, a dressing mirror or two, and a small table with a decanter of some sort of liquor and a few glasses set on top of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slipped inside, keeping the shotgun at the ready, more for the light than the protection it would offer against a human opponent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The costumes hanging on the rail consisted of scanty dresses and feather boas. Their shapes cast person-shaped shadows on the wall.  He jumped when he caught the silhouette of a hatstand out of the corner of his eye, decked with elaborate cabaret style hats in such a way as to trick his mind into seeing a human form at first glance. Sam jumped again when the door of the dressing room slammed shut behind him. When the apparition of the blood-covered woman in a nightgown appeared in the middle of the room, a short sharp yelp of fright escaped him and he had a moment to think how glad he was that Dean wasn’t there to hear it. Then the woman turned on him, revealing a malevolent, skinless grin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean watched the girl take a sip of her beer. She held the bottle between her index and middle finger and flipped it up in practiced motion, drank deeply then let out a little belch. She giggled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” she said. “That wasn’t very ladylike of me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stared at her for a moment, taking in the sparkle in her eye, the endearing, nervous way she wiped the corner of her mouth on the back of her hand. She was different, there was no doubt about it. And still, that feeling of familiarity remained. Intensifying even. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” she said, blushing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” said Dean quickly. “I’m sorry, it’s just… you’re so…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gross?” she ventured with a coy look at the bottle clutched in her long, elegant fingers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Adorable. I was going to say adorable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed and rolled her eyes. “You really know all the right things to say, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean it!” he blurted. “Really.” He couldn’t help taking in the sight of her a moment longer, her slender neck, the way her dress plunged down tantalizingly low, offering a teasing glimpse of a subtle cleavage. “Do I...do I know you? It’s just... I feel like we’ve met.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sabrina looked away and brought the beer back up to her glossed lips, letting it hover there for just a moment. “Maybe in another life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean couldn’t help letting out a chuckle. “Yeah, maybe that’s it.” The intensity of her gaze was tangible, as if in it she was trying to communicate something beyond the scope of words. “Do you believe in that stuff?” He asked her, seriousness creeping into his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweet cheeks, you have no idea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> She put her hand on his shoulder and her fingers toyed idly with the collar of his flannel shirt. The feeling that she was trying to communicate something to him heightened for a moment before a fresh round of drinks was placed in front of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess sometimes you just meet people and just feel like you’ve known them your whole life,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took another long sip of her beer, belched loudly and thumped her chest. This was enough to break the tension and send them both into hysterical fits of laughter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam fired at the phantom as it moved in on him. The skin on the lower half of the creature’s face looked as if it had been peeled away, giving it a leering grimace. The blast from the shotgun did nothing to stop the apparition reaching toward him with clawed fingers. He fired again out of desperation. He thought he saw the ghost flicker, but that might have just been wishful thinking. Still it closed in on him, slashing at the air. Sam ducked and brought his arm up to protect his face as the talons came at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He winced in anticipation of having his arm shredded by the thing, but no pain came. Cautiously, he peered over his elbow, jerked when he saw the thing swing again, but quickly realised that its swipes were futile. Each blow moved through him like smoke, having no physical effect. He stepped aside and noted that the creature's eyes remained focused on the spot where he had been standing moments before while it continued to swipe at the air where his face had been. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not a ghost, </span>
  </em>
  <span>thought Sam, waving his hand through the thing and in front of its face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It must be some kind of magical projection. Maybe a ward spell of some kind.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On a hunch, he reached under the table on which the bottle of spirits had been placed and found a small cloth bag pinned to its underside. Just as he suspected. He unbound the leather cord keeping the bag sealed and emptied the contents onto the ground - the bone of a small animal, a knot of hair and some dried herbs. As he ground them beneath his boot, the projection flickered and disappeared. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But who would have set this up? And why? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam didn’t have to wait long to get the answer. A figure melted out of the shadows behind the rail of clothing, slow clapping like a parody of a Bond villain. Clap. Clap. Clap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam swung the beam of the flashlight to light up the face of a woman with fiery red hair and a curvaceous figure squeezed into a leather corset and leggings. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought it would’ve at least taken you a little longer to find the charm,” said the woman. “And I’m surprised to see you without your brother. Where is the little -” her lips curled downward in disgust “-darling,” she spat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried to answer her, but he discovered his tongue had become thick and lolled in his mouth helplessly. The shotgun fell from his hands and he barely managed to remain standing as his body became numb and useless and his vision swam. He felt himself pitching over, but was steadied by two other women who appeared just as suddenly to grab him by the arms. They forced him into one of the chairs before the mirror. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No matter,” said the woman with the flaming hair. “We shall have just as much fun without Dean.” She gazed at Sam intently, scraping her fingernails down his stubbled cheeks while the other two stood on either side of him, their fingers jabbing into his shoulder muscles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have no idea who we are, do you?” she said. “Allow me to introduce myself and my sisters. I am Wren, this is Archana and Elipha.” Sam strained to roll his head on slack neck muscles to look up at the two on either side of him. Archana had mocha skin with sleek hair down to the waist of her lacey black dress. Elipha looked like all the color had been drained from her. Her eyebrows were either the same powder pale of her skin or she had shaved them off as a kind of statement, Sam couldn’t tell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why are you doing this, Sam tried to ask, but what came out was something closer to “Hn Hnnn Hnn Hnnhn hnn?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You and your brother have been travelling across the country killing our fellow witches like two unhinged Salemites. Honestly, that sort of behaviour is not very progressive of you. Hmm… maybe that shall be the nature of your lesson.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wren waved an elegant hand in front Sam’s face and that was when the torture began. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Since we’ve passed that threshold of familiarity,” said Dean. “I guess I should tell you, my brother and I aren’t going to be in town long. We have a… a complicated lifestyle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sabrina put a gentle finger to Dean’s lips. “You don’t have to explain a thing. I’m just really enjoying spending time with you like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean watched her eyes scan downwards over his lips, down to his chest and then, in a way that he couldn’t quite interpret, down to her own breasts, as if she were noticing them for the first time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just two people enjoying the moment, right?” he said, following her gaze and imagining what her body looked like under the dress she wore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She snapped her fingers and pointed at him, snapping his attention back to her eyes. “Exactly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could feel the air between them sizzle with possibility and felt himself being drawn towards those lush, full lips. She pushed him back. “I need to find the little girls’ room.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He bit his lip as she hopped off her barstool and watched her sashay towards the bathrooms. Before she disappeared through the swing doors to the ladies’, he caught her straightening the back of her dress over her perfectly shaped butt, lowering it an inch over the backs of her long, toned legs. He bit the knuckle of his fist, a primal grunt of charged frustration escaping from him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We know what an arrogant womaniser your brother Dean is,” said Wren. “Our sister Bellor not only had her heart broken, but was then violently disposed of by the two of you </span>
  <em>
    <span>murderers.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The anger in her eyes was no longer contained and lashed at Sam like wildfire. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now you will both learn your lessons. Sisters…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two women on either side of Sam threw their heads back as if in a trance. The words that gurgled from them intertwined in the air in an incoherent pattern of intent and as the volume of their incantation grew, Sam felt it’s power sweep over his body. His limbs burned as if dipped in acid and he could feel his bones creak and strain as they morphed beneath his skin. His skull and ribcage felt as if they were being crushed by an immense pressure and a deep pain wracked through his hips as if his pelvis were being pulled apart by a widening brace buried deep inside of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pain eventually subsided to a dull tingle that crawled across his skin. He could feel the flesh of his face tighten and a strange warming sensation on his chest that culminated in a dull ache in his nipples. As he fought and struggled against the magical binds that held him, his nipples, now exquisitely sensitive, grazed against the rough fabric of his military surplus shirt. What really concerned him, however, was the pulling sensation in his crotch - a not unpleasant drawing in and slipping inward, and a wetness that he could only put down to the sweat of fear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing to me?” he managed to gasp, but the voice that came from him was not his own. It was high and wavering and he tried to clear his throat. “What is this?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What a lovely voice, you have my dear. Now let’s see what we can do about your fashion sense.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wren wheeled the chair around to face the dresser and the lights around the mirror popped on to reveal a stranger staring back at Sam. A stranger with big, scared eyes and full lips that formed a frightened O. A woman. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My dear, look how beautiful you are,” said Wren as she applied a coat of lip gloss onto Sam’s frozen lips. She then produced an old-fashioned perfume pump and sprayed it liberally in the air around Sam’s throat. Elipha meanwhile, busied herself with a brush around Sam’s cheeks and Archana ran gelled fingers through his hair. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to stay this way forever. But if you did, say, want to break the curse, you’ll need to fill this…” She hung a delicate chain around Sam’s now slender neck and tapped the pendant. In the stark light of the dresser mirror, it appeared to be a small vial of some kind. “ with your brother’s seed. Of course, you’ll also need to dress the part.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Archana, now finished styling Sam’s hair into a feathery wisps around his face, presented him with a hanger on which hung a cocktail dress chosen from the rack, along with a pair of lace panties. Meanwhile, Elipha placed a pair of black, high heeled shoes on the dresser beside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, and don’t even think of telling Dean about what’s happened to you, or your chances of lifting the curse will be blown forever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And before Sam had a chance to protest, the witches melted back into the shadows, leaving Sam alone in front of the mirror in his unblemished new body. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean tapped his fingers on the bar, not knowing what to do with himself while he waited for Sabrina to return. His phone dinged, and he was momentarily grateful for distraction. His gratitude faded, however, as he read the text. It was from Sam: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dean, I think I’m gonna go solo for a while. Need some space. The impala is parked in the lot behind the motel. Theater is taken care of. Don’t call me, I’ll call you. Jerk. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last word stung the most, not because of the surface insult, but because underneath it was the implication of brotherly love and the confirmation that Sam was still Sam, making the decision as a grown man independent of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slammed the phone down on the bar counter and stared at it, mentally composing a response, but knowing that none would suffice. He was so distracted that he didn’t notice Sabrina sidling up beside him again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everything okay?” she asked tenderly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. No. Just my brother being a giant asshat.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Siblings, huh? Go figure. I bet he still loves you very much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” said Dean wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose. The music playing over the bar’s sound system now sounded too loud and tinny, and the whole place seemed stuffy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, do you want to go somewhere and talk?” said Sabrina gently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” said Dean, “that actually sounds really good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let her lead him out of the bar and once they were out in the fresh air, her perfume seemed to fill up the night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>By the dressing mirror lights, Sam undressed and slipped into the clothes that the witches had left for him. He tried not to look at his new body in the mirror, </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>body. He was already beginning to think of himself as a woman now. And when he caught a glimpse of her flat belly and narrow waist as he pulled the dress down over his head, the notion solidified. She quickly looked away, it still gave her a sense of vertigo seeing a completely different body reflected back.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took her a moment to figure out which way around the tiny dress went, but once it was on, the soft fabric seemed much more comfortable against the skin of her tender new breasts. She took a moment to practice walking in the heels. “I can do this,” she said out loud. Feeling the words slide like velvet over her new vocal cords. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shotgun was at least twice as heavy now and Sam’s old jacket was at least twice as large, but she pulled it on over the snug fitting dress to secret away the shotgun. The rest of the old clothes she left in a crumpled pile, but she’d be damned if she left the shotgun behind. Carefully at first, then growing in her confidence to walk in heels, she marched from the theater, back to the Impala. When she reached the street, she looked around nervously, afraid that someone would see her like this, but then reminded herself that it didn’t matter now. No one would even think to link her to the tall, moose-like man who had entered the theater little under an hour ago. The Impala didn’t seem to care either. It started as faithfully as always. She took the most direct route back to the motel, parked Dean’s car in the lot around the back, stashed the jacket in the trunk along with the shotgun and made her way to the dive bar where she knew Dean would be whiling away the time with beer. At that point she didn’t know what her plan was, all she knew was that she had to see Dean. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She paused outside the bar and sent Dean a message from Sam’s phone so he wouldn’t worry too much about him. Then she tucked the phone into the little handbag she’d found in the theater’s dressing room, took a deep breath, and walked in. She saw him at the bar immediately and her heart pounded in her ears. She knew she couldn’t tell him the truth, but to be near him, to be comforted by his presence...that would be enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it was. It had been a long time since they’d been able to just relax and enjoy each other’s company like old times. Even with her new appearance, it felt as easy and comfortable as slipping into a warm bath. Except it wasn’t just comfortable was it? With her new body, new feelings had arisen. Or maybe they weren’t new, maybe they were just exposed, brought into the stark light of a new situation. Maybe the witches had done something to make her feel the way she did when Dean leaned in to kiss her, or maybe her body was just responding in the most natural way. But it was much too much for her to bear so she had pushed him away and excused herself to the bathroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” she asked herself in the mirror over the sink. She could look at herself now without turning away ashamed. Maybe it was the alcohol - it seemed to hit much harder in this smaller frame - or maybe she was getting used to her new appearance. “He’s your brother.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>Wouldn’t he understand though? They had made greater sacrifices to help each other out of tight spots before, hadn’t they? And it didn’t seem like Dean was in great agony when she had absently played with the collar of his shirt, or when he had leaned in close enough so that she could smell his aftershave - now so much more intoxicating. And what about afterward? </span><em><span>What about when I change back?</span></em> <em><span>How different would things be then?</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe you should leave,” she said to the vulnerable face in the mirror. “Just say goodbye and figure out another way to reclaim my old body.” She took out Sam’s phone and wrote Dean a message, pausing for a long while before sending it. It’s better this way, she told herself. But when she came back out of the bathroom and saw him sitting there, it all changed again and so they had left the bar and stepped out into a night that was vibrant with dangerous possibilities. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam - or Sabrina as she thought of herself now - led the way towards where she knew the Impala was parked then stopped. She knew the first thing Dean would want to do was make sure the Impala was okay, but she couldn’t let Dean know that she knew where the car was lest she give herself away. She hung back for a moment and let Dean take the lead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where do you want to go?” she asked him, as if she didn’t know.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took both her hands in his and looked into her eyes. For a moment she thought he was going to lean in and try to kiss her again, could feel herself melting into the moment, drawn by those green eyes and self-assured curve of his lips. But it was his turn to break the tension.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to introduce you to someone,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raised her eyebrows. For a horrible moment she thought he meant to look for Sam. Would they spend the rest of the night driving around looking for a man that no longer existed?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My baby,” he said. When she blinked with feigned surprise, he said, “My -uh- my car.” He laughed and she was relieved that some of the lightness had returned to the mood between them. “No real babies, promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” she said. “It better be good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He put his arm around her waist as they crossed the road toward the motel. His body was warm and comforting. In the front parking lot of the motel, he looked around anxiously. “My stupid brother borrowed it. Now where the hell did he say he parked it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Around the side, maybe?” said Sabrina, trying her best not to sound prickly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who’s stupid? I told you very clearly it was round the back, idiot</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but even in the thought there was a sense of nostalgia for their childish bickering. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they rounded the corner of the motel, the Impala came into view and Dean’s relief was palpable. “Behold!” he said proudly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice wheels, hotshot,” said Sabrina. “If I’m not mistaken, a 1967 Chevy Impala hardtop, excellent condition. Bet you’ve got a 502-cubic-inch big-block under the hood and if I had to guess…” Sabrina trailed her fingers along the body of the car and pushed her weight down on the hood making the front of the car bounce. “Hotchkiss performance suspension.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean gaped at her. “Holy crap! I think I’m going to have to marry you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sabrina pushed passed him, letting her breasts brush against his body and let herself into the passenger side. “Let’s go for a drive.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean was really starting to dig this chick, but he couldn’t help thinking there was something too good to be true about her. It was like she could read his mind, or as if she had been carefully stitched together from every fantasy he’d ever had. And assuming she wasn’t the product of a trickster probing the recesses of his mind, or a Siren who had shapeshifted into his ideal woman to bend his will to nefarious ends, where was this going? One way or another, he’d need to be careful not to let this go too far. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He adjusted his belt buckle, still throbbing from the close proximity of her body. To hell with it, he thought. If Sam, who was constantly fretting about the future, could run off on a whim, he could be a little crazy for a night or two, or even… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t think too far ahead,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he told himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That always ends poorly. Just two people enjoying the moment, remember?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slid into the drivers side, found the keys behind the sun visor, and caught her looking at him curiously. He held her gaze as he brought the engine to life and watched her bite her lip at the sound of the roar. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Another too-perfect moment. God help me, I really hope you’re real, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As Dean guided the Impala out into the road, he asked Sabrina, “What sort of music do you like?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course there was only one correct answer: anything that sounded like the death duel of electric guitar-wielding wargods. But just to wind him up, she said, with a cheeky grin, “Got any Elliot Smith?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have got to be joking!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No? Okay, Jim Morrison Jimmy, how about The Doors?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean chuckled nervously. “My -uh- dad was a big fan. Incidentally…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He flipped open the glovebox, pulled out a cassette, spun it around between his fingers and slammed it into the tape deck. “Riders on the Storm” joined the deep rumble of the Impala’s engine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My dad was a big fan too. Guess I’m lucky I didn’t end up with a name so on the nose.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean tensed for a moment. “Yeah, my dad wasn’t known for his subtlety.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. They drove for a while like that in silence. “Do you miss him?” she asked eventually. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at her with unguarded suspicion. “It’s just that you said he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>a big fan. Either that means he’s no longer a fan or he’s gone. I just figured...” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His face softened. “Yeah, I guess I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too. Miss my dad, I mean. But somehow I never get the feeling that he’s actually gone, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled at her then in a way she had never seen him smile before. It was open, vulnerable and honest. The facade of macho bravado that he wore like a suit of armour had momentarily fallen away. In that moment she wanted to take his face in her hands and tell him that everything would be okay. She wanted to comfort him in any way she could and her body was offering up so many suggestions of how that could be done, that for a moment she felt dizzy and breathless. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the voice at the back of her head, the one that still sounded like Sam, spoke up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No! What are you even thinking? Just tell him the truth of what happened. He deserves to know. And if it means you stay this way forever, then that’s just a sacrifice that needs to be made. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And would that even be so bad - to be Sabrina for the rest of my life?</span>
  </em>
  <span> But to tell Dean would be to end whatever it was that was happening between them. Another, equally forceful part of her, one that spoke in a soft seductive voice, whispered, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t you want to see where this goes?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Please be real, please be real, please be real,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the thought had become a mantra in his head and he hated himself for being so cynical, for having been so corrupted by the life of a hunter that he couldn’t fully relax into the moment and accept a good thing at face value.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But when she had said that thing about missing her dad, he had seen so much of the longing and pain of an imperfect human life in her hazel eyes, that he couldn’t believe he had ever thought she was anything other than an actual person with all of the complexity that comes with the suffering and joy and love and sadness of being. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again, the air between them had been filled with an almost unbearable tension and, again, he hated himself when he instinctively patted the bowie knife holstered at his side, drawing comfort from its cool weight beneath his shirt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” he said. “You want some whiskey?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel like a teenager again,” said Sabrina and giggled as they turned off a deserted forest road into an old camping spot. With her inhibitions softened even further by the whiskey from the hip flask that Dean had offered her, flirtatious giggles came as naturally to her as Dean’s joking machismo came to him. She took another sip from the flask and handed it back to Dean. The flask was made of silver and the hard edges of the whiskey had been smoothed over with a splash of holy water. An old hunter’s trick. She knew Dean was only doing his due diligence, but it worried her a little that a part of him may be suspicious of her. When she had taken a good long first sip and hadn’t burst into flame, Dean had barely been able to hide his relief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” said Dean. “Did you come out into the forest alone with a lot of boys when you were a teenager?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” said Sabrina, playing coy. “Or maybe I’m making up for missing out on those kinds of things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I were your dad, I would have kept you locked away from boys like me too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what kind of boy is that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The bad kind,” he said with a crooked grin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the engine killed, the only sounds were those of the forest and their own soft breathing. “How bad?” she said. Her heart was hammering in her ears now and the pitch of the crickets sounded feverish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean leaned in closer, his smile never faltering. His teeth were bright in the dim light from the dashboard and his eyes glowed green. She could almost imagine that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>was a creature of the night, hungry for flesh. So hungry. And so was she. For him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She breathed his breath and let it fill her. It swirled around in her belly like an intoxicating smoke. His lips were so close to hers, but they remained poised, teasing. She lifted her hands, about to push him away. Sam’s voice inside her head screamed, but only faintly, fading away as the softer, feminine voice sung - a crystal clear note of desire. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then her hands were feeling the stubble of his cheeks, running through his hair and their lips touched, melting together, parting, warm and moist, soft and exquisite. She found his tongue with hers and savored the glorious pulsing sensation of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he drew away from her, she gasped for breath, desperate for more of him. Her hands found the collar of his shirt again, not idly this time, but with forceful intent. She gripped his lapels as she climbed over the gearshift between them and onto his lap, squeezing her legs into position on either side of him. Even as she covered his mouth with hungry kisses, she was unbuttoning his shirt and he was lifting her dress over her head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She could feel the soft lace of her panties pressing against the heat between her legs and beneath it, the coarse material of his jeans and the hardness of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She helped him pull her dress the rest of the way off and tossed it into the back seat while he tried clumsily to stash his shirt in the footwell behind her, wrapped in a bundle around the bowie knife. Then the world was taken up by the sensation of hot bare skin against skin. Her nipples burned and throbbed against his chest and she could feel the muscles of his shoulders twitch beneath her fingernails as she clawed at him. In response, he bit her lip, restraining himself to the point that the sharpness of his teeth drew only moans from her helpless mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She leaned back, pushing herself more forecfully onto the hardness beneath his jeans and savored the hot ache of her sex. He took a moment to admire her breasts and she followed his gaze, seeing herself through his eyes, enjoying the way her body looked as she grinded against him. He massaged the soft points of her breasts in his hands, biting and licking at the nipples, each movement of his tongue sent a spike of sensation that jolted all the way down to that hot throbbing place between her legs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands slid down her belly, honing in, closer and closer until his fingers teased through lace, never quite touching that new part of her, always pulling away, stroking the edges of her panties and grazing the tender, fleshy mound. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he pulled the lace aside, the air felt cool and soothing where she had become wet. Finally, with the tip of a gentle finger he touched her clit. The feeling was so intense that she twitched, rocked her hips back and away from him. It felt so alien, so strange, so insanely good. Too good. She couldn’t imagine feeling any more pleasure without her lungs exploding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She somehow managed to open her eyes to see him looking up at her, smiling wickedly, loving the power he had over her body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It infuriated her to know how much he was getting off on watching her writhe and struggle with these overwhelming feelings. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she said breathlessly, shaking her head wildly from side to side, feeling high and light-headed on her own body chemistry. She flung the driver’s side door open and climbed over him, out into the fresh forest air. Her nipples crinkled as they cooled, but down there she was still all fire and heat. She curled a finger, beckoning him to join her out in the night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the moonlight, her body was lithe and animal. Her nipples looked like two perfect river pebbles and the black of her panties against her skin made it look like the dark of the night itself hung around her hips. In that moment, he was sure that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a magical forest creature of some kind and at the same time, he wanted her so much that he didn’t care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stepped slowly out of the car toward her, half expecting her to sprint off into the night and disappear forever. But she didn’t run. She came to him, pushed him against the side of the car and put her fingers to his lips. Her eyes were wide with something close to surprise as the fingers of her other hand found the hard, throbbing bulge in his jeans. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, teasing him as he had teased her, her hands moved over his chest down over the ridges of his stomach muscles and pulled at his belt. A moment later, his cock sprung out, hard and aching, but no longer restrained. Soft fingers of one hand encircled him, while the fingers of the other reached down to stroke the sensitive skin of his balls. They drew up at her touch and he sucked in a sharp breath as she lowered herself, breathing lightly over the thin, exposed skin of his glans. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His cock was as hard and curved as the handle of his bowie knife but thick and hot and alive. It jumped in front of her face as she ran her nails upwards along the underside of its length. She cupped it with both hands, moving slowly, and, like taking a bite from a forbidden fruit, she took the head in her mouth, holding it there, feeling his heartbeat drum through it. The smooth bulb stroked the roof of her mouth and she moved her lips back and forth along his shaft in time to its pulse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she pulled back again, it left her mouth with an audible pop. “Oh, Dean,” she gasped, and then, panicked that he might have heard her use his real name, she filled her mouth with him again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He seemed not to have noticed because he sighed into the night air and ran his fingers through her hair. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was he close?</span>
  </em>
  <span> she wondered. If he came, she could keep his seed in her mouth, run into the forest and spit it into the vial around her neck to break the witches’ curse. Maybe Dean would chase after her, but in the dark, she would find a way to lose him. Somehow that seemed wrong. She wanted more of him. Wanted him inside her. Wanted to feel the virgin sensation of his cock sliding into her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she sucked him, she ached with need and indecision, and the motion of her mouth and hands became deep and desperate. Mercifully, the choice was taken away from her as Dean lifted her to her feet, spun her around and pinned her against the Impala. His gaze was penetrating and for a moment she was sure that he had heard her whisper his name. It really would be over then, but instead, he reached a hand between her legs. There was no teasing this time. His fingers cleaved her soft flesh and swirled over her aching nub. Her hips rocked and her knees shook, and she felt as though she would collapse to forest floor but he held her as the first wave of orgasm exploded through her. Then he was lifting her off her feet and  sliding into her - so much more intense and fulfilling than she could have imagined it to be. As she gave into his powerful body, it became clear, the choice that had wrought her was no longer hers to make. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her skin prickled as his deep, smooth strokes racked through her and she cried out into the night as her second orgasm came upon her suddenly and with violent force. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sabrina,” whispered Dean, holding her face in his hands as he moved in her, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Yes, Sabrina.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She could only hold his gaze and nod desperately as he edged her closer and closer to another powerful wave. This time, she dug her fingernails into his back, and squeezed her legs around his waist. “I’m coming,” he said. She held him there with all her strength, unable to allow him to slip away. Needing him to stay in her just a few moments longer that way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His shaft pulsed deep inside her and he moaned roughly into her ear, making the skin of her scalp tingle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, not just the skin of her scalp. Her entire body was tingling. Was this normal? The tingling became a sting which became an acid burn all over her body. No, she thought. Not yet. Please let me be Sabrina for just a little while longer. She winced, shutting her eyes against the pain, but Dean held her, his muscles still twitching, his cock still hard inside of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before, the pressure had been inward, except in his hips where he had felt them expanding. Now the sensations were reversed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sabrina? What’s wrong? What’s happening?” shouted Dean from far away, yet his body remained pressed closed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean’s cock was finally pushed out, as Sam’s own male genitalia reformed. When he finally opened his eyes, he was staring at his brother, who wore a horrified expression. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sam? What the fuck is going on?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam followed Dean’s gaze downward and saw their two stiff members still pressed against one another, the heads smooshing into one another as if they were kissing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean pushed away from Sam’s naked body, tripping over the jeans around his ankles and looked up at his brother. Sam’s goddamn monster of a Johnson was still waving around, poking out of the side of a pair of lace panties. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dean, I can explain.” Sam stepped forward, extending a hand to help him to his feet. Of course he had known something was up, how could he not have? The way Sabrina seemed to know what he was thinking, all the little hints along the way, the talk of dad. It all made sense. Not to mention the fact that he was sure she had whispered his name while she was going down on him. He had pushed it aside, maybe knowing deep down inside that it was too late to start asking questions. Maybe knowing deep down inside that Sabrina </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sam and not wanting to confront that reality. “Yeah? Well this better be one ass kicking explanation, Sam,” Dean gestured helplessly at Sam. “You’re wearing panties, man!” As if that was the kicker of the whole situation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam didn’t get to his explanation, however. At that moment three women stepped out of the shadows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Caught with your pants down and your panties in a knot, eh, boys?” said the woman with the fiery hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is this?” said Dean. “Who are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As we explained to your brother during our encounter earlier, we’re just peace-loving witches who are tired of standing by and watching our sisters being persecuted by the likes of you two. We wanted revenge, and by the gods of the forest, we got it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Witches. I should have known.” A flash of light momentarily blinded Dean and he realized that one of the witches had just photographed him in this most compromising of positions. “Hey! You delete that right now! I swear, if that ends up on the internet…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Dean. A little bit of humiliation is nothing in exchange for all the witches’ lives you’ve taken. And don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy this little tryste. And Sam, I suppose it’s too late to tell you that the vial was nothing but a distraction. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> were </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> the vessel meant to receive your brother’s seed. And what an excellent job you did, you little harlot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean scrambled to his feet, finally managing to pull his jeans back up. “Now you look here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The witch without eyebrows who had taken the photo lifted the phone in front of her face and held her thumb threateningly close to the screen, implying that if he took one more step, she’d send the photo to every dingy little corner of the internet she could reach. Dean backed away, raising his hands in defeat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” he said, trying to get himself under control. “What do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just for you to leave us alone. Consider this a treaty. Witches loyal to me will no longer be employing magic to kill or injure humans, provided you and your little band of hunters no longer seek us out. Fair?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In Dean’s experience, there were some things you couldn’t argue with, even if every fiber of your being screamed in protest. “Fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I shall wish you two gentlemen </span>
  <em>
    <span>adieu.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” With that the witches melted back into the shadows and Dean was left to reluctantly face Sam who stood covering himself with his hands as best he could. Even in the dark, his cheeks were visibly red. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean stepped around him and climbed into the Impala. “Get in!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They drove in the direction of the motel, silently passing the hip flask back and forth between them. Sam still wore the panties for lack of anything else to cover his lower half, now with his jacket pulled over his shoulders. “Dean, I’m sorry. I would have told you, but they said it would make the curse permanent.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean swore, slammed his fist against the steering wheel, wiped a hand over his face and finally seemed to get himself under control. “It’s okay, Sam,” he said eventually. “Damned witches. It’s not your fault. And we </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to speak about this again. I’m just glad to have you back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He even managed a smile, one almost as open and vulnerable as the one he had given Sabrina on the drive into the forest, and took another sip of whiskey from the flask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I also have to be honest with you, man,” he said after a long, thoughtful pause. “I sure am going to miss her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam rubbed his legs together and tugged at his jacket self-consciously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So am I, Dean, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So am I. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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